roses
by alienlatte
Summary: "He has veins of fire and a heart of ice, after all. Still, gazing upon her pretty face and gentle smile, he actually feels something. Of course he cannot grasp the feeling for he simply does not understand it. This woman is surely something of myths." or the hades/persephone todomomo au no one asked for!
1. Chapter 1

The first time he sees her, she is among the flowers.

Her mother hovers close by, long black hair swept up into a loose bun. Her smile is fond as the younger woman brings a lily to her nose. The contrast of white against the ink of her hair is striking and he knows, then, that he wants to see more.

The next time, she is alone.

Surprise settles across his chiseled features as he knows how protective mothers can be of their young. Besides, anyone would be protective of the fragile beauty she possesses.

He has been coming back to this spot, this vast collection of flora, just to catch glimpses of her. This time is different, however. This time, he will strike up a conversation.

His feet cross the distance between his spot and hers with ease until he's at the edge of the garden. Nervousness overwhelms him like a tidal wave and he cannot remember the last time emotions have stirred in the depths of his soul. He has veins of fire and a heart of ice, after all. Still, gazing upon her pretty face and gentle smile, he actually feels something. Of course he cannot grasp the feeling for he simply does not understand it. This woman is surely something of myths.

"Uh - Ahem," he clears his throat and then pushes on, her midnight eyes locking onto him with a quickness he has only seen Iida possess. "Sorry to interrupt." _He really isn't._

"Oh! I - I'm sorry," comes from her lips in a tumble as a rosy tint dusts across her lips. "I didn't see you there!" A sheepish smile forms and he rubs at the skin on the back of his neck, looking away. She is even prettier up close.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he mumbles. She swaps smiles, then, and he understands why sunlight seems to follow her. Her smile is the sun and he is simply basking in its glory.

"It's quite alright!" Her tone is bright to match her smile.

"If you say so," comes his unsure reply.

She rises to her feet and red pools around her, the flimsy flowing material of her dress reminding him of bloodied rivers. Funny how well a woman as gentle as her can wear such a violent color.

He prays to see more.

"Would you like to see the flowers? They're quite beautiful around this time." He gulps at her words and uncertainty makes him take a small step closer with a questioning gaze. He is a stranger to her and yet, she is inviting him closer? An eyebrow of red quirks upward and he pins her in place with the piercing combination of gunmetal and sea water.

"You do know you're inviting a stranger to your side, right?" He murmurs. His legs move on their own accord, carrying him closer and closer as a gossamer giggle floats between them. Not even angels could make that pure of a sound.

"I'm not worried," she replies.

"I could be here to kill you," comes his retort. He's in front of her now, a few inches taller than her delicate frame.

"Try it," she challenges. The gleam in her eyes is intriguing, a mixture between delight and excitement. It's enough to pull his head toward hers in retaliation, his own gaze narrowing slightly. Something about the look she has on her features sets his nerves ablaze and his right hand idly moves to his left arm, searching for the fire he feels. Surprisingly enough, his left side has yet to activate. Strange.

"Maybe I will." She smirks at that before offering a pale, delicate hand into the space between them. "My name's Momo. It's a pleasure, stranger."

He doesn't miss the flicker of her eyes when her gaze drops oh so slow toward his hands. The pause when she spots his lips before roaming further to the destination is enough to quite possibly cause him to burn the entire place to the ground.

Somehow, the idea of her standing among the ashes in that crimson dress is almost erotic.

His rough hand finds her own in a heartbeat and he matches her smirk with one of his own.

"Name's Shouto," he breathes. "Although, I'm not opposed to a nickname if it pleases you." Her lips widen at his words, a dazzling smile forming from the death of her smirk./p

"Next time I see you, I'll have one for you." The idea of a next time is enough to send a shiver down his spine.

She pulls him along, then, steering the conversation toward the various flowers before them. He leaves a few hours later with the feeling of her hand still in his own and a red rose in his pocket. He has never been one to appreciate their beauty but after just a few minutes in her presence, he comes to understand the allure of roses.

After all, they may be pretty but they have all have thorns.

He brings a rose with him the next time he goes, delicately holding it in his calloused fingers. Finding such a flower, or any flower really, in the underworld is a hard feat but he prevailed. Triumph is fleeting, however, when the Fates can't stop laughing at him long enough to get any coherent sentences in. He flushed, of course, at their mocking but an icy glance sent in their direction was cause enough for them to leave the god be.

It isn't hard to find her. She never truly strays from that beautiful patch of land, nestled in the grass. Once again she is left alone among the flowers (her favorite place to be, really) and he approaches with an almost timid air.

"Oh, you're back!"

Her voice greets him before he even feels the sun kiss his scarred face and Shouto finds himself chuckling at the gleeful look upon her face.

"Someone's happy to see me," he snickers as he steps closer toward her and her field of flowers. He earns an eye roll from that, much to his own amusement.

"Don't let your head get too big, it's already a decent size as is." Now it's his turn to roll his eyes at her, although the giggle he earns in reply makes it rather difficult to feign hurt.

"So mean," he pouts. This only causes her to giggle more as she gets to her feet in a swish of a short red skirt and a tangle of flowing black hair. Momo crosses the distance between them with the lithe movements of a dancer and perhaps she is. The way she moves in one fluid motion, swirling around in the crisp fresh air is a true work of art. Does she know how graceful she looks? His heart flutters in his chest at the mere sight of her and maybe she knows the magic she's casting on him and his once unbeating organ.

"You like it, don't try to fool yourself."

Yes, he really does. The banter is the most fun he has had in years, perhaps even eons if he is being honest. The dead aren't very good at conversations after all.

Silence engulfs them and he shifts awkwardly, suddenly unsure of just what to say to her that won't come off as creepy. _Yes, I love your teasing. You're enticing when you quip back with remark after remark. Just marry me already._ Yeah, that would not go over well.

He rubs at his neck with a sheepish grin and instead of speaking, he merely shoves the rose at her. Her eyes light up, a supernova against her starless eyes, and he decides right then and there that he wants to see more of the light in her eyes.

"How sweet," she coos and plucks the flower gently from his hands. The thorns seem to be at home in her grasp and he knows that he made the right choice in his gift for her. Bringing it to her nose, she takes a soft sniff and a sigh of content passes through her parted lips. He revels in the sound and takes a small step closer when her eyes meet his.

"I-" He begins before another voice enters the fray, halting the words before they can escape from his lips.

"Momo, what are you doing?" The mature voice belongs to her mother and he shrinks back, the nervousness from his first encounter with Momo returning in spades. The woman steps from the trees and he sees her narrowed eyes and firm frown before glancing at her daughter before him. Surprise takes over her face, her body pivoting to face her mother's approaching figure.

"Spending time with a friend," Momo replies. Her tone is soft, uncertain, as if even saying the words will bring the wrath of the gods down upon her. One more look in her mother's direction and he can certainly see why.

The older woman's face has pulled into a menacing scowl, her pretty features morphing to rival Medusa's. A small part of him is fearful, but not for himself. No, he's king of the Underworld, he doesn't fear anything. The fear is for his companion, with her gentle demeanor and kind smiles. The idea of her mother ripping that kindness to shreds is cause enough for his fear (and quite the fuel for his anger).

"Get away from him," comes the growled reply. Momo recoils back at the words as if burned and he tries to mask his sudden rise in anger by forcing a deadpan look across his features.

"But - But I don't understand…" Her confusion bleeds through her words like a fresh wound and yet, her mother doesn't offer her any explanation. Instead, she rounds on him with an angry fire in her eyes.

"Stay away from her," she snarls. "Go back to your rotten kingdom. I'm sure the dead miss their _king._" Between the sneer and the venom in her words, her disgust is obvious. Truthfully, he isn't all that surprised. After all, most if not all of the gods detest him. Banished to a decaying kingdom with no one but the souls of the damned and his precious Cerberus, he is the outcast brother, condemned to spend an eternity alone.

"King?"

The look Momo gives him, then, cuts through him worse than any blade. Betrayal shines in her eyes, the idea of him hiding who he truly is seems to be painful to the ink haired woman. He could have assumed that she knows who he is and chose to ignore it but he knows it's his fault for not indulging in this information. After all, mentioning he's Shouto Todoroki, god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld isn't exactly a great conversation starter.

"We're leaving," her mother's voice is firm. There is no room for questions, despite Momo seeming to have a plethora of them. His eyes fall to the hand clasping her wrist, the rough tug by her mother that all but yanks her away. He wants to say something, wants to protest this, wants to burn her mother alive for touching Momo in such a harmful way.

He stays silent, however.

The flustered protests from Momo fall on deaf ears and she is dragged away, wide black eyes never leaving his as the distance just grows and grows and grows. Something painful erupts in his chest and he merely raises his left hand, hot and fiery and everything is ablaze at once.

She is gone and he is alone. His flames are the only company he has now and they are demolishing her precious garden, unleashed and full of fury.

He had wanted to see her among the ashes in one of her crimson dresses, smirking at him, and now that vision is shattered. Instead, it is replaced by the scene of the ashes of what could have been and what will never be.

Momo's flowers are never coming back, just like her.

notes - this idea came to me in the car the other day and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it since so here's a two-shot based on a todomomo take of the hades/persephone myth (my favorite btw). hope you guys enjoy and i hope i do the myth justice. thank you for reading~!


	2. Chapter 2

He burns the roses he collected once he arrives home.

The Fates, as nosy and quite annoying as they are, steer clear of the god. His anger is coming out in waves of flames and ice and they would prefer to not get caught in the crossfire.

As much as the loneliness eats at him, he appreciates the space. After all, he just lost the only person he felt any connection to.

The pain he feels, while awful and anger-inducing, almost feels good. It has been an eternity since he has felt anything. Numbness has always been woven tightly in his body. How could he feel anything else? Isolated in the pits of the Earth, surrounded by nothing but the dead and flames… Anyone would eventually feel the same.

Glancing at the remains of the flowers, he chuckles to himself. The sound is low, almost animalistic, as he watches them turn to ashes. Funny how pretty a rose looks with flames licking its pretty, fragile petals.

Perhaps she would have looked similar in his kingdom…

She struggles against the iron grip of her mother's hand, bare feet digging into the soft grass beneath them.

"Stop - Stop it!" Her cries fall on deaf ears. There is no reasoning with her mother, of course, and as much as she knows this, she must try. The image of Shouto, locks of snow and flames mingling together against his scarred forehead, flashes across her mind. _He was just giving me a gift, Mother. Why can't you understand?_

"What were you thinking?"

The snarled statement brings both to a halt, the older woman spinning on her heel to face her daughter. Anger bubbles at the surface of Momo's skin and while it threatens to break loose, her mother launches into yet another speech of the importance of caution and avoidance of men.

"I was thinking he was a nice man," she murmurs. Her voice is soft, tiptoeing the very thin line between safety and being subject to her mother's rage. She always had been curious of chaos, however, and perhaps that is what fuels her to press on. "I was thinking I could finally have a conversation with someone else besides you. My _mistake._" The venom that drips from her lips is unbecoming of a young woman like herself and yet she could not care less.

She has never rebelled against her mother before. The thought has crossed her mind, sure, but never has she acted upon it. After all, she is the quiet and polite Momo Yaoyorozu, who bites her tongue and stays silent in the face of problems.

Well, no more.

"Watch your tone," her mother warns. Her face scrunches with thinly veiled rage and oh, Momo wishes to set it free. "I raised you better than this." The words earn an eye roll from the younger girl as she rips her wrist from the slightly loosened grip of her mother.

"No," comes from her lips with a firmness she hadn't known she possessed.

"No?" _Oh, here we go. _She fixes her gaze upon her mother, amusement flickering in her eyes as the woman tries and fails to contain her irritation.

"Yes, I said no to you. What are you going to do, Mother? Chain me up?" She presses further, moving to circle her like a lion would its prey. The red satin of her dress brushes against the ground with ease as she walks. Her mother's eyes follow her movements, something Momo can't quite place swimming in the depths of those starless eyes. _Hm, is that fear? _She scoffs to herself as she stills just beyond the woman's line of sight.

"I would never!" The protest is weak and Momo barks out a harsh laugh. Of course she would! Anything to protect her _precious_ daughter.

"Don't lie, Mother. It's unbecoming," she taunts, hands resting defiantly on her hips.

She is tired of this, of being kept away like some fragile little bird whose wings would shatter if she were to fly on her own course. She is a grown woman, damn it. Why could her mother never understand this?

"I'm not lying, Momo." The pleading in her voice is subtle, not hidden enough however for the young woman to pick it apart. She may be a touch naive but oh she is not a fool (not with that calculating gaze). "I - I just want better for you. He is not a friend, sweetheart." _There's the pet names when she wants to distract me. _A chuckle resonates low in her throat and her gaze is full of knives all pointed directly at her mother's fragile back.

"How could you want better for me?" She has reached her limit. The outrage that she kept hidden in a cage at the back of her mind has broken free and there is no stopping it now. "You treat me like an object you don't want to lose! He is the first person to actually see me as something other than a prize, Mother." She is past the point of niceties, past the sweet voice and ruse of innocence. She is Momo Yaoyorozu and she will be damned if she is caged any longer.

"His intentions cannot be pure," the feeble attempt of an argument slips into the space between them. Another laugh bubbles from her lips and she steps closer with soft hands reaching for her shoulders.

"Holier than thou," she breathes, lips grazing her ear with teeth slightly bared.

"This isn't you, Momo." The statement is firm but her resolve is steel.

"It is. You just haven't been paying attention to the woman you caged," she retorts with a small smirk. Too long she has been holding back the fire in her veins, the iron of her bones. Her mother made her pretty and kind, sure, but she couldn't change the lioness within.

A chaste kiss presses against the older woman's cheek, sending her reeling with confusion long enough to be a distraction for Momo's escape.

And so, she flees into the shadows in a blur of crimson and ink, soft giggles and footprints of ashes left in her wake.

"Your darkness."

He groans at the raspy voices at his door. Damn Fates, always talking in unison with voices of shadows and cobwebs.

"I told you to stop calling me that," comes his tired reply. His fingers pinch at the bridge of his nose in exasperation, crossing the small distance between his bed and the door. "What do you want?" He questions as he flings the door open a bit more dramatically than necessary.

"There's a visitor."

They turn on their heels after that, long bony fingers beckoning him to follow. He complies, trailing behind them through the winding corridors of his home. Who could it possibly be? Iida bringing him some stupid message from his brothers? Bakugo back for another fight over something he did in the past? The list could be both endless and relatively short. After all, most people pray to never come to the Underworld.

"Well, well, well!"

Her voice turns his fiery blood to ice, mismatched eyes widening at the mere sight of her. All at once, relief floods his body before turning to excitement and finally confusion in a matter of seconds. Why would she be here? Didn't her mother just drag her away after one look at him?

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she murmurs. Her voice is soft, unsure, just as it had been when her mother first showed up. Her eyes, however, don't match the tone she uses. Perhaps it is just the reflection of the flames that openly burn around his home or some lighting trick but he swears he can see a ruthless gleam in the pools of ink. Odd…

"No, you're not." His reply is firm yet his eyes convey a certain fondness he would rather not define at such a point in time. "May I ask why you're here?" Shouto cuts to the chase with ease out of a need to rid himself of the plethora of reasons behind her sudden appearance.

"Spending time with a _friend_," she grins. "That's not a problem, is it?" A few steps closer and she peers up at him through luscious lashes. The predatory glint in her eyes is noticeable now and as he locks his gaze on her own, he matches the look with a wolfish smirk of his own.

"Mother won't be a problem, hm?" The way he says it is mocking and she snickers in response, dainty hand pressed to her lips as she brushes past him clad in red silk and milky skin. Funny, he was positive she could not be capable of such an attire. She had seemed innocent, naive when he first laid eyes on her (not that he minded for it wasn't her curves that drew him in) and now she is all alluring glances and exposed skin. The neckline on that dress should be illegal.

"Not anymore," she quips with a grin of sunshine and raw power. She is ethereal with that look upon her face, all moxie and ferocity despite the crown of roses nestled atop waves of black. He is merely openly staring at this point. After all, he is simply admiring the art.

"Good," he mumbles, rubbing at his neck with the bashfulness of a teenager. "Would - Would you like something to eat?" He really only has a small selection of food but it would be rude to not even offer her anything.

"Mmm - Do you happen to have any pomegranates?" Momo smiles at him as she marches on with Shouto following closely behind. He nods in response, taking larger steps in an effort to take the lead.

They find themselves in the kitchen for hours, chatting eagerly over plates of fruit and cheese. Glasses of wine drained in color sit off to the side and as he watches her giggle at a poor joke he makes, he finds his gaze dropping to her lips. Stained red from pomegranate juice that she tries and fails to lick away, they look almost appetizing. Perhaps that is what brings him in for a chaste press of his lips against her own. She tastes of freedom and wine and while he has never had a preference for the fruit, he finds himself wishing to only taste pomegranates if they are on her lips.

"About time," she snickers after he pulls away.

Shouto rolls his eyes and leans in once more to capture the second kiss of eons to come.

notes - and here is the conclusion~ i feel it's a bit rushed but i hope it wrapped up the story nicely ^^; hope you guys enjoy and thank you for reading! i might add little one-shots based on this in the future if anyone wants more hades/persephone aus for these two because i'll happily comply~


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